


The Breath Before

by stars_inthe_sky



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Consensual Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hawkingbird, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Relationship(s), Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex, Smut, ignores Age of Ultron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 21:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4035955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_inthe_sky/pseuds/stars_inthe_sky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>So let’s make this physical / I won't treat you like you're oh-so-typical</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Hawkeye and Mockingbird tackle interagency relations, and each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Breath Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [red_b_rackham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_b_rackham/gifts).



> This story completely ignores _Age of Ultron_ 's revelations about Hawkeye's personal life (fight me, Joss) but otherwise exists more or less in the MCU.

“If anybody asks,” Clint whispers, breath hot against her neck and his hands tangled in her hair. “Tell S.H.I.E.L.D. that everyone’s sixth-favorite Avenger says you’re doing a great job with this liaison thing.”

Bobbi laughs heartily and pulls his face toward hers. “If anyone asks _you_ , make sure you tell them that I don’t normally tackle interagency relations quite so literally.”

They both pause to look down at his jeans, which are pooled around his ankles above his boots. Her pants are undone, and the open belt buckle clinks as her hips shift closer to his. She misjudges the angle, though, and he yelps as the buckle pokes into his thigh. “Well…lucky me.”

Bobbi bites back more laughter, and Clint just rolls his eyes and yanks her khakis down to match his, but the skinny fit means the fabric gets stuck around her knees. She giggles as he realizes this and dodges his hands to jump back a half-step and fall onto his bed. Bobbi actually bounces a little, which means it’s a nicer mattress than anything she’s slept on in months, if not longer. It’s a nice touch.

Clint kicks off his shoes and leaves his jeans behind in a swift motion that ends with him hovering above Bobbi on the bed. His grin is as big as hers is, and her face is starting to hurt from the unrestrained joy of the moment, which bodes well. “Just for the record,” he says. “I’d really like to buy you dinner sometime. Or, uh, you can buy your own dinner, if that’s what you prefer, but I can eat it with you? I mean—”

Bobbi chuckles. The guy can withstand brainwashing, alien armies, and Nick Fury’s death glare, but asking out a girl who’s absolutely about to have sex with him—again—makes him nervous. It’s kind of cute. “No, I’d like that. And you can totally pay; I’m not on an Avenger salary.”

She grabs the front of his t-shirt and yanks him down for a kiss, but she pulls hard enough that his arms unbalance beneath him and a joint in his arm cracks audibly. He manages not to completely collapse, but he does face-plant on the mattress next to her head and takes the opportunity to nip at her neck in retaliation.

“That’s gonna leave a mark, sport,” she points out.

He sucks for a moment, hard, using his teeth for emphasis. “Counting on it.”

Bobbi shifts in attempt to flip him over, but her legs are still tangled in her pants, which hinder her movement, and all she succeeds in doing is jostling Clint off of her. They lie side-by-side for a couple of seconds, panting and laughing, and Bobbi realizes she probably owes him a bit of honesty. She _likes_ him, and there are too many ways that dinner could end awfully. “I should, uh, warn you,” she admits, turning her head to face him. “I’m not…great at this.”

He looks genuinely surprised. “Not to spoil whatever speech you’ve got prepped here, sweetheart, but you are _very_ good at this. I mean, if you want more practice, I am totally…”

She whacks him in the head with a pillow. “I meant the whole dating thing, Clint.”

“Oh,” he blinks. “Well, look, if you just want to stick to the hooking up, I’m not gonna argue. Not like either of our gigs are particularly conducive to traditional courtship, I guess, but…”

Bobbi shakes her head quickly. “No, it’s just—I like you. I do. A lot. I think we could…be something real.”

“But…?”

“I’m a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. The real S.H.I.E.L.D., S.H.I.E.L.D. as it should be—that’s my first love. It’s _always_ gonna come first. It’s not just what I do, Clint, it’s who I am. And I _like_ that, and I’m not looking to change it. But I’ve been told it makes me hard to trust.”

Clint pauses for a moment, and his poker face is terrible. It’s easy to read him, and what she sees gives her hope she doesn’t deserve. Finally, he says, “Considering that I spent most of my adult life as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent…I’m calling bull.”

“Oh, you are, huh?”

“Yep. I like you, you like me, and…honestly, I’m not the most experienced when it comes to this kind of thing,” he confesses, reaching to brush a thick curl behind her ear. “But I figure it’s mostly just a question of talking. You tell me when you’ve gotta be Agent Morse, and I’ll trust you when you say you’re not.”

“So…what, no angles, no agendas? Just the two of us in the room when it’s just the two of us in the room?” In spite of her audible skepticism, Bobbi scoots closer to him and he rests his hand on her cheek, his thumb sweeping gently across it. “Not like either of us has a job that’ll make any of this easy, either.”

“Well, the honesty thing, it goes both ways—my people don’t answer to yours anymore, you know. But if you wanna talk like the adults we’re supposed to be, like we’re just two people who…wanna keep talking, I’m game.”

“Huh,” Bobbi murmurs. She pauses for a moment, and then she decides to believe him. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Clint looks almost as happy as he had a few minutes earlier, when she’d had one hand down his pants while the other was unzipping them. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, feeling surer. “Yeah. Show me a good time with our clothes on, Barton.”

“It’s a date, then,” he declares. “Right now, though, I think it’s time for less clothing.”

Bobbi nods vigorously. “My thoughts exactly.”

He springs from the bed, strips off his shirt, and goes to work on Bobbi. Her boots are more fashionable than functional today, but he doesn’t linger over unzipping them. She watches him for a few breaths, enjoying his singular focus on the task at hand, even as his smile suggests how much he’s looking forward to what comes next.

As soon as the boots are cast aside, he tugs at the ankles of her pants, and she wiggles to help remove them before shucking her top. Their eyes meet, and without a word, she’s shaking off her bra while he removes his boxers. He’s ready first, and he crawls back on top of her just as she kicks off her underwear.

“Try not to throw me off this time,” Clint murmurs, bracing one hand against the underside of her breast while working the other between her legs.

Bobbi sighs happily, running her palm down the length of his spine and arching her back to give him better access. His fingers skim up the inside of her thigh. Bobbi lifts her head to meet him for a kiss, and the slip of his tongue back and forth over her lips answers questions she hadn’t yet dared to ask, even as she retorts, “Try not to give me a hickey this time.”

“Oh, _really_ , Birdie?” he says, and slides his entire body down the length of hers, replacing his hand with his lips. Bobbi groans and grinds into his mouth a little, her fingers curling into the smoke-colored quilt. Clint slides his hands up either side of her body, starting along the curve of her rear and moving along her waistline up to her chest, where he starts working at her breasts with a precision that makes her gasp. She can _feel_ him smiling now, and the sensation seeps into her skin like a heartbeat. Bobbi lets out a full-throated moan as his tongue quickens in rhythm with his fingers.

She falls silent and then freezes. “Your suite is soundproof…right?”

“God, yes,” Clint smirks as he pulls back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

He moves flush against her again, and this time she succeeds in flipping them both over. “Anything I can do for you?”

“Just, you know…” his eyes flicker across her face, down her breasts and past her navel to his hipbones, which she’s straddling, her wet center pulsing against him with a deliberate slowness. He’d been stiff enough when they’d crashed into his bedroom, but he’s now so hard that it’s distracting—every nerve in Bobbi’s body screams with the desire to take him in. “Yeah. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Oh, I am _beyond_ —“ Bobbi begins to say, but she gives up on coherent wording when he palms her breast again. His other hand darts toward the nightstand, and she shifts her weight to the side so he can move far enough to grab a condom from the drawer. She shifts again so he can roll it on. As soon as his hands drop away, she sinks onto him, and their twin sighs of bliss and near-relief merge in neat harmony.

She leans forward to kiss him again, and their lips press together sloppily for several seconds as their hips start to grind to a faster beat. Clint wraps one hand around her hip, setting their pace, and the callouses on his fingers scrape lightly against Bobbi’s skin, making her shiver. She sits up partway, rolling her shoulders back to make her chest jut out; Clint takes the hint and moves his free hand to one breast and his mouth to the other. She leans into his ministrations, balancing her hands on his chest and flicking his nipples alternately, with just a hint of nail.

Clint moans quietly, and something shifts; heat bubbles just below her stomach, and Bobbi gasps at the suddenness of it. “Yes, yes, yes, right there, please,” she pants, clenching every muscle in her lower body around him as he pushes into her harder. On another lover, his grunting might be a turnoff, but Bobbi is acutely, gloriously aware of every inch of her skin against Clint’s, and he can make any noises he wants if he keeps touching her like this.

She comes first, in a short series of full-body shudders punctuated by his name, over and over. Bobbi freezes for a moment at her climax, riding the feeling to its end, and Clint follows her to completion a few thrusts later. His hands and head flop down on the bed, and Bobbi lowers her chest against his, still enjoying the contact. She tenses around him once more, just for kicks, and he closes his eyes and grins dazedly.

“You,” he breathes. “You are a whole other level of something.”

“Not so bad yourself,” she replies, rolling off and collapsing on the bed next to him. “Glad we’re going to be making this a habit. Definitely a good incentive to maintain interagency cooperation.”

“Mind if I offer another one?”

“Not at all.”

“Shower?”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to my dearest [red_b_rackham](http://archiveofourown.org/users/red_b_rackham)!
> 
> My deep and abiding gratitude goes to [ilostmyshoe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ilostmyshoe), who is everything one might want in a beta reader, and then some. 
> 
> Shout out also to my smut Yoda, [c00kie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/c00kie).
> 
> Title and summary are lyrics from Tegan and Sara's "[Closer](www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/teganandsara/closer.html)."


End file.
